Divining the Truth
by Catwings1026
Summary: Sequel to "Quid Pro Quo."


**Divining the Truth**

By Catwings1026

Spoilers: Season 8, Reckoning Parts 1 and 2, Threads

Disclaimer: Not my show, not my creation, not my characters... goodness knows I'd treat them better if they were! All hail those who own SG1-I'm just playing in their virtual sandbox.

Author's Note: This story follows _Quid Pro Quo_, a missing scene from _Reckoning 2_. QPQ sets up a reality that is played out here... what do you say to your best friend when you've been inside her mind? This story assumes that, given the events in _Reckoning 2_, Daniel has gained the ability to use the Ancient skill of opening the human mind to another for the purposes of sharing information. The timeframe is approximately a week or so after _Threads_.

Some of the ancients, divining the truth yet from far away, reckoned that the soul knows things because it is composed of them.  
>-Thomas Aquinas, PHILOSOPHICAL TEXTS, 13th century<p>

The walk by the river was, in a way, an escape from the world-from the world of Cheyenne Mountain, anyway. In the moisture-heavy air and water sound, it was somehow easier to detach from all those aspects of a job that was more of a life. Colonel Samantha Carter measured her pace beside Daniel Jackson, both silent. It was a special place, this river... a world apart from uniforms and security and secrecy. Here, there was no "Colonel" or "Dr. Jackson"-it was simply Sam and Daniel, two friends together, stepping back into the mundane world which had, in its own way, become alien to them. Traveling through time and space in secrecy has a way of doing that.

The sounds of traffic and the human noises of the park fell behind them, allowing space to be... just that, to be. Somewhere beyond the park, across the green, a church bell chimed the hour, and somewhere, a dog barked in response. How odd, Daniel thought, that sounds like that could be so... unfamiliar. I've been spending too much time at work...

But even now, in the act of stepping away from "work," he still had a job to do. Sam had cornered him, finally, as he knew she would, and demanded of him why he had been avoiding her. There was no sense in denying it; he HAD been avoiding her for several days now, but it was more of buying himself time than anything else. With the question, his reprieve was up... and it was time to 'fess up, catch up, what-have-you.

_'I only wish I knew what to say...'_

"Daniel?" Sam's voice was soft, no longer the clipped military tones she wore in uniform. That single word held a multitude of questions-questions she did not need to voice, because he knew them already. Close to a decade's worth of friendship imparted that near-telepathy, but for once, Daniel did not wish for it. Sam's eyes scanned his face, and he could see the hurt and worry there. He closed his eyes against it... so much had happened in the past few days that causing his best friend anxiety and concern was simply icing on the cake.

_'Let's see... I got kidnapped by a meglomaniacal killing machine that makes the third Terminator look like Barbie, managed to help stop the replicators from overrunning the universe, accessed the latent knowledge of the Ancients locked away inside my head, got killed (again), ascended (again), and descended (again-and naked again, what's with THAT?)-but that's no news to her; that was the easy part to explain. Now, I have to tell my best friend that in the process of doing all of the above, I've been inside her head, inside her most intimate thoughts, and know pretty much everything she never wanted to share with me...'_ He sighed again. _'All in a day's work, I guess...'_

He looked at Sam again, and the expression on her face tugged at something deep inside him.

"It's kinda complicated..." he began. "But I guess I'd better start with what you know, and try to go from there..."

They sat by the bend in the river, side by side on a rustic wooden bench, neither looking at the other. Daniel's hands were folded, elbows resting on his knees. Sam sat straight against the back of the bench, too rigid with too much information.

"So... you've essentially... downloaded all of my thoughts and memories that the replicator had stored in her mind?" Sam's voice was slightly strained.

"Not so much downloaded, no... more like... experienced." Daniel did not look at her, and his voice, too, was edged with discomfort. It was unnatural, and he hated the feeling. He and Sam had always been able to talk about anything... anything at all.

But now...

"Experienced," she said, frowning.

_'Well, how else do I say that an angry replicator started pelting me with various and sundry thoughts and physical memories from your entire life, trying to throw me off the trail of a way to defeat her?'_

"Look, Sam... it's kinda hard to explain... but... I've been trying to find a way to tell you..."

"By avoiding me."

"...pretty much since I got back. It's not exactly the easiest conversation to start, you know. I mean, what do I say... Hey, Sam, how's it going, I'm back from the dead, and oh by the way we need to talk because I kinda got into your subconscious mind by accident while I was away..."

"Okay..." She leaned forward, matching his position. "I'm thinking this is going to be a fairly long conversation... and we've only just gotten started."

Daniel gazed out over the river, resigned and pensive. "I'm thinking there's probably a better way than a conversation to let you know exactly what you need to know."

"And that would be..."

"I can show you," he said simply, the tone matter-of-fact, but the voice edged with a peculiar softness. His eyes met hers, and there was something in them-some expression Sam could not name or place. "It's one of the things... one of the things I learned. She didn't mean for me to learn it, but..." He trailed off. "I can show you... bring you inside MY mind."

Sam studied her friend's face for a long moment. What she read there was more emotion than expression; she could feel his discomfort rolling off him like raindrops, though he'd long since come in from the storm. He didn't want to show her, to bring her into his mind... of that much, she was certain. And there was a distance there, too... a distance she hadn't felt between them since... since...

_'Since he came back that first time.'_ She remembered the hurt all too well, the realization that all the time she'd thought Daniel dead, he'd been "ascended"-not dead at all, just changed, once removed from the physical reality of her world. Not dead, though she'd grieved his passing, ached with loss... and then discovering that he'd visited both the general and Teal'c. And when he'd come back, at last-returning to the physical world bereft of memory-it hadn't been the same at all between them. She wasn't sure if it had been her, or him, or both... but...

It had hurt. Losing Daniel the first time had been worse than having a limb wrenched away without anesthesia... losing him again, losing that rapport and camaraderie they'd always shared, had been worse, in a way. She'd tried to keep it hidden, tried not to let him know, tried to be glad of his return (and she was, she was glad, if that was the right word for it, though it felt too mild a term). But there had been a distance between them for a time, something that had lasted too long, until once again they grew into one another's company.

And now...

_'And now, he knows... everything.'_ She could see it, read it in his eyes, in his face. _'He knows everything I ever knew, and he doesn't want to know, and doesn't want me to know how much he knows... all that and so much more...'_

Sam drew a deep breath, trying to keep the shudder from giving her away entirely. Did she really want to know all that he'd seen? Did she need to know? It was Daniel, for goodness' sakes... Daniel, her best friend, closer to her than a brother, and yet more than a brother, better than a brother, because the bond between them had sprung up of its own volition, rather than being an obligation of blood. If there was anyone in the world... in the universe... she would trust with her every secret, it was Daniel. She knew him well enough for that...

Sitting so close she could feel his body's warmth blending with her own, Daniel dropped his eyes... and for all the closeness, seemed light years away.

_'And that's why you know it's hurting him right now... know that he thinks he's violated you, somehow, and has to make it up to you by coming clean. Even though he didn't choose it, didn't force himself upon your mind, HER mind, in a sort of mental rape by proxy, he feels like he did, and he needs you to tell him it's all right.'_ She ducked her head, caught his eye... and the unveiled guilt and shame she saw there cried out to her in a tone more piercing than anything audible. _'If anyone's mind was raped, it was his... SHE did that, the soulless, cold machine, and didn't think anything of it; it wasn't rape to her, it was data retrieval, but that doesn't stop it from being what it is... and dammit, he's blaming himself. Daniel... that is so, so... YOU.'_

She swallowed hard, touched his hand.

"Show me," she said, giving his fingers a gentle squeeze.

The trust in her eyes very nearly undid him... he'd seen the shock there, the flash of anger and then fear, but mostly the numbing shock as he'd tried, stumbling, to tell her what had happened. But now, blue eyes fixed on him with unflinching trust, loosening the cold that had settled into his own chest, and somehow, that trust was more of a burden than the truth itself...

"Show me," she said again, and he nodded wordlessly. He reached up, willing his hand not to tremble... paused when she flinched, and the image of Fifth flashed into his own mind, her memory still planted there, and he swallowed down both revulsion and rage. He'd always felt a certain protectiveness towards Sam, though God knew she didn't need him, or any man, to protect her in a fair fight. But now he knew... knew better than any man, than any human being... that there was great vulnerability hidden away in her as well, and hurts deeper than perhaps even she knew. He knew what the replicator had done to her, knew better than anyone, and it had, in its way, been worse than anything he'd endured.

He lowered his hand. "Close your eyes," he said, trying not to make it a command. She hesitated only a moment, then closed them.

Again, the trust conveyed by that simple gesture went directly to the heart of him, and he struggled against his own emotional response. THIS was Sam, his Sam, both soldier and woman; neither disposed to surrender control to anyone, and yet, in the face of the unknown, willing to allow his judgment to prevail.

He raised his hand once more, this time briefly resting his fingers on her cheekbone, tactile introduction, before laying his palm to her cheek and slowly, tentatively, extending his mind to hers, inviting her to join with him. She shuddered once as his mind brushed her own, then yielded to both mental and physical touch. He could feel the apprehension she was trying so hard to hide from him, and with his mind's hand reached out to settle it, brushing misgivings aside like so many crumbs, and sending to her thoughts of reassurance and reciprocated trust. When he sensed her acceptance, her willingness to proceed, he gently wrapped his mind about her own and drew her in.

She knew the tent, the style at least-the Abydosian-Bedouin style Daniel was so much at home with. And well he should be; such a tent had been his home before Jack O'Neill's request had brought him back to Earth and into the Stargate program. Daniel himself stood before her, not needing glasses anymore, and arrayed in loose folds of blue and knaki, the desert garb of his former life-a life he'd shared with Sha're, his late wife, and for a moment Sam wondered if this tent was the mental representation of the home they'd shared. As if sensing her thought, Daniel glanced around, nodding.

"It wasn't much... but it was home," he said, trying to make his tone light.

"It's lovely," Sam said, allowing her eyes to roam about before turning to him once more. "But... it's not real, this place, is it?" Daniel smiled.

"Well, it's real enough... for us, for now. It's somewhere to start from, anyway." He gestured to a sitting area of thick-woven rugs and pillows, then followed her there, dropping naturally into a cross-legged repose. They sat face-to-face, silent for a moment. "I wanted to give you a chance to get used to the feeling of walking around in someone else's mind. This," and he gestured to the tent, the pillows, the rugs. "is all scaffolding, really. I'm just sort of setting up shop for a bit, trying to make it ... well, comfortable. Just feeding the images and everything to you... it wouldn't be... pleasant."

From the expression on his face, the wrinkle of his brow and tightening of his lips, she knew it hadn't been pleasant for him... not pleasant at all. From her own experiences, she knew exactly what he meant.

"Once you're ready," he continued, "I'll start feeding the information to you... little by little."

"'Darling, peel me a grape?'" she quipped, and was gratified by his chuckle at the joke.

"In a sense." He folded his hands in his lap, settling himself. "So... just tell me when."

She nodded. "Let's do it."

Daniel sat back, taking a breath... and once more, Sam felt the not-touch of his mind about her own, but this time, it was not so much guiding her as... as... creating a barrier, of sorts. When the images and sensations and memories began, it was rather like being inside a bubble that was its own projection screen... only the movie and slides were tactile, physically palpable, audible, totally sensory and emotional and... overwhelming. Even doled out in a manageable stream, receiving the information was like stepping into a maelstrom with only a vinyl raincoat and umbrella as defense.

Sam was very much aware of Daniel's mental presence shielding her from the buffets of emotion and memory, hailstones of thought, that pounded down, around, through her. Fragments of her life whipped past as though in a gale, sparks of memory, sensory and visual and emotional, then wheeled back in a vortex to come at her again from behind. But Daniel was there, though she could not see him... keeping the worst of it back, regulating the flow of chaos into something almost, almost manageable.

Each sound, sensation, thought, memory was instantly recognizable... her fears, her joys, her hidden secrets, every shameful childhood misdemeanor, every instance of adolescent and adult passion. She realized now, with a flush and a chill, that Daniel knew every thought she'd every harbored about every man she'd ever known-for these were the thoughts the replicator had chosen to sting, to hurt, to shame. She fought back the hot flood of embarrassment... Daniel had seen her naked, in essence if not in fact, though it had been through her own eyes he'd assimilated the memories stolen by the replicator.

Then, piercing the flush and discomfort, was concern... she was embarrassed, yes, horribly embarrassed to see her own life laid bare before her friend... but what must it have been like for Daniel? He had wrapped his mental presence about her, shielding her from herself with his mind, to allow her to see and feel and hear what he had taken from her doppelganger's mind... but Daniel had been faced with this unprotected, alone in the storm.

Daniel was a man of deep emotions... he always had been, and that was what endeared him to her from the first... exquisitely sensitive to the needs and wants and moods of his friends, and even to those who were not his friends. In his own way, he felt every hurt of every stranger as deeply as his own... and here, knowing that the memories and emotions swirling about were hers, he would have tried not to see or hear or feel, but he'd been given no choice in the matter...

And now, he was voluntarily reliving that experience for her.

It was, Daniel decided, probably the hardest thing he'd ever done.

Back in the tent-room of his mind, he felt his mental self wracked with trembling, muscles he didn't have in this form aching as though he'd run a marathon twice over. It was physical translation of emotional and mental strain, he knew... just as he knew the perspiration that beaded his forehead was not due to arid desert heat. In fact, the ambient temperature was rather pleasant...

He'd had to be both shield and assault for Sam, for he needed her to know exactly how it had happened... to feel it for herself, as best she could, to experience the storm of thought, memory, emotion all flung will-he-nil-he at him. He needed her to know, know without a doubt, though he had sensed no doubt in her, that none of it, none of it at all had been his idea...

Sam sat still, her eyes on her hands, her hands clutched in her lap, not looking at him. She, too, was trembling... though whether from shame or exertion, he could not tell; he'd carefully insulated her mind and emotions from his own-the tent being a physical representation of that.

"I'm sorry," he said, and it sounded flat even to himself. She looked up, and for a moment, unbridled anger flashed at him-and it took a moment, one terrifying moment, for him to realize that the rage there was not directed at him, but at a violator long gone...

"Sorry?" And her voice was clipped, hard-edged. "What do you have to be sorry for? You weren't the one who did that... it was... it was..." Her voice faltered. "It was ME."

Daniel sat bolt upright now. "Sam, that wasn't you. I knew it wasn't you, and even if the memories were yours, it wasn't..."

"Why do you think she used those memories, Daniel?" Sam's response was steeped in bitterness. "Just a coincidence, you think? I can think like her-she's a replication of ME, dammit! If I'd wanted to overwhelm you, drive you back, stall you, I could have flooded you with random bits and pieces, equations, stories, anything... redirected the knowledge of the Ancients, twisted it so that you couldn't use it, there's only so much a mind can take, Daniel... even yours... but she knew exactly where to hit, where to hurt. She knew damn well what she was doing..." She drew a deep, shuddering breath. "She knew you... through me. She knew how to hurt you..."

"You'd never have done anything like that." Daniel reached for her hand, took it, squeezed. "Sam, it wasn't you. It wasn't anything related to who you are, or were, or could be. Yes, she knew how to hurt me..."

_'Oh, and now THIS is going to be the hard part... but you're in it now, Daniel, up to your neck...'_

He drew a breath of his own, steadied his voice. "But she knew how to hurt me, Sam, because she was in MY mind, too. I've only shown you what she showed me. I... I didn't show you... why." He moistened his lips. "You're right, that it was... deliberate. She's got your memories, your skills, your training as a soldier... she knew how to fight. But... you weren't the only one who gave her ammunition." He paused, considering his next words carefully, but did not look at her. "Throwing your memories around, Sam, wasn't the only game that replicator played. I can... I have to... show you the rest, too. It's all here, in my mind... and you have the right to know." Another silence filled the space between them.

"Daniel, you don't have to..." she faltered, angry at herself, at him, at the situation now. "Daniel, it wasn't your fault. You don't have to ... to atone for anything."

"I know I don't have to, Sam." His hand tightened on hers, and it was cold. "I don't HAVE to. But... if we're going to go on together... if we're going to hold on to what we have, our friendship..." He stumbled, then looked directly at her, his eyes intense and somehow strange. "Sam, I cannot live with you knowing that I've got your memories inside my head without you knowing WHY. I know we could call it off here and now, call it quits, say that everything's fine, that nothing's going to change between us, but Sam, it HAS. It's changed already. And unless you know the truth... the whole truth... there's always going to be that hanging between us. And you're... you're my best friend, Sam." His voice dropped to a desperate whisper. "I can't risk losing that."

She stared at him, mouth slightly ajar at the tone, at his urgency. It was true, she knew, every word of it. He knew everything, now. Everything. About her past and present, about her dreams and fantasies... how could she look him in the eye again, knowing that? She'd feel that she was walking around in front of him stark naked from this day forward. And...

_'And he knows about Jack...'_

She flushed, looking away. Her feelings for O'Neill were deep and complicated, too convoluted even for her own mind to riddle apart, equal parts shame and desire and frustration and desire... and she had never told anyone that, not even Janet, and certainly not Daniel... how could she look at him when they were together, she and Daniel and Teal'c and Jack, knowing that he knew?

But... there was something in his voice, some half-concealed tension, that tugged at her. She risked turning her eyes back to him...

And saw that there was an odd liquidity to her friend's gaze. He was watching her, but there were tears not yet formed threatening, like rain shadow on the horizon.

"Sam, I've already lost one best friend in my life... one person I gave myself to entirely, trusted with everything I ever was..."

"Sha're..." She breathed the name, and he closed his eyes, the pain crossing his face, and nodded.

"And I don't want to lose you, too. Not because of this."

The impact of his words froze her for a moment. To be equated with his wife, his Sha're... it was more than she was prepared to accept. Oh, she'd always known that she and Daniel shared something special... a bond that transcended the surface friendships so common among colleagues. They were family, she'd once said. More than that. Partners. And she'd known he'd felt that way about her... but she hadn't really thought about what it meant, deep down.

Or what it would mean if that bond was irrevocably broken. It would be worse than his death, in a way... because he would always be there, but never again the way it had been.

_'I couldn't live with that...'_

And with that realization, she reached out to Daniel, mirroring his gesture to her, and touched his face.

"Close your eyes," she said, her voice barely a whisper. He did as she asked, without hesitation. She laid her palm flat to his cheek, felt him lean slightly into the touch...

And then Daniel opened his mind to her... completely.

They were standing on the riverbank in the park where they'd walked together so many times before. Sam could remember every conversation, every shared joke. Sometimes Teal'c or Jack or both had joined them... but sometimes, and those moments were precious to her, it had been just her and Daniel. It was more liberating, in its own way, than stepping through the Stargate. The riverside park was a world removed from Cheyenne Mountain, from uniforms and mission reports.

Across the river, the path-the path they usually walked. Sam took a moment to mentally orient herself; it was odd being on the opposite bank, observing... what?

Observing herself. She was standing there, across the river, with Daniel. They seemed to have paused for a moment... Daniel's voice drifted across the water, clear enough to hear, though low.

"So... I guess it would feel like I was avoiding you," he murmured. "Maybe I was... but I didn't want to. I wanted to tell you... you needed to know... I just didn't know how."

"Well..." Sam saw herself smile, searching for words. "It's kinda like seeing your best friend standing stark naked in the middle of the gate room, isn't it? And you're the only one who sees it."

She took his hands, first one, then the other, stepping in front of him. She squeezed his hands, stepping into his innermost circle. He trembled, a convulsive shudder, and she laughed softly, releasing his eyes but not his hands. Watching, Sam felt slightly like a voyeur... though every action was as natural as any memory that could happen, had happened already...

"It's _okay,_ Daniel. Really. _It's okay._" Her other self seemed to be laughing at Daniel, whose face was hidden from the watcher on the far bank. "You're my best friend. If there ever was anyone... anyone... I could trust with being inside my mind, with knowing me that way, it's you."

That much was true, and she knew it. She could trust Daniel with everything... with anything. But... was this the replicator self, toying with his mind? Why was Daniel showing her this, allowing her into this part of his mind, his memory?

The mind-Sam rose on tiptoe, kissed her Daniel quickly on the cheek, dropping back down before he could react. "But... still..."

"Still?" His voice rasped slightly, and the look she threw him was pure mischief.

"Well, if you know all my secrets, what are we going to have to talk about now?" She stepped away slightly, cocking her head to the side. "Unless there are some secrets you've been keeping locked up... seems only fair. Quid pro quo, Dr. Jackson?"

When he didn't answer, she smiled, releasing her grip on his hands... but he tightened his hold on hers, visible even from across the river. For a moment, the mental Sam hesitated, confusion passing like the shadow of a bird across her face. Her playful smile faded.

Watching, Sam could see Daniel's fingers trembling as he released one hand and reached up, letting fingers play across her cheek, sliding down to cup behind the nape of her neck. Her eyes widened for a moment, surprised, and then she yielded to his caress.

"Quid pro quo." His whisper was husky, but it, too, trembled. "Well... it does seem only fair. And there are some secrets, Sam, that I've been keeping...if you want to know."

She nodded once, slowly, and he did not need to draw her closer. She moved into him, folding into his arms as though she'd always belonged there. As he brought her to him and brushed his lips over hers, the silent watcher felt something rush over her, a surprising warmth and confusion and...

And as her arms encircled him, tightening and pressing their bodies together in growing realization, Sam felt the memory of emotion spiral out to include her... she felt every sensation, every emotion, as surely as Daniel had felt it before... and was feeling it again now. As she surrendered to the kiss, to the joy and surprise and relief and promise, she felt it mirrored and magnified in the person of the one person she thought she'd known so well...

She shook herself back. No, this wasn't right... not right at all. This wasn't the Daniel she knew; it had to have been a trick of his mind, some hidden desire the replicator Sam had taken and twisted and sharpened to the point of a knife... making him believe that perhaps, perhaps, this was his reality, thereby subduing him to her will...

It was brutal and vicious, psychological warfare at its basest level... she was sickened by the thought of it. She did not want to see Daniel realize the game... for he would, surely he would... Daniel was strong, stronger than any mind-games or emotional veils. He would break himself away, and...

She turned away from the sight, forcing herself to breathe, for she had been unconsciously holding her breath. She forced herself away...

She felt herself return to the tent, a brutal jerk back from the memory-world, but somehow, it was not the tent she'd known, not as things had been. Daniel was there, but oblivious to her... his hand locked about the wrist of... of... herself. No, not herself... the replicator who had taken her appearance.

She could see Daniel's face, the strain and sudden shock, and realized that this was exactly what he had experienced... that he'd torn himself away from the river, from the kiss, to return here... to his reality, to a battle he'd been fighting in his mind and the mind of his adversary. His eyes widened, then narrowed into cold blue fire.

"You bitch," he breathed, and his voice rasped with the memory of the river that had never been...

The replicator smiled... and it was not Sam's smile.

"You cannot defeat me," she said.

"Watch me," he replied... and tightened his grip on her wrist. "Quid pro quo..."

His eyes were almost savage in his face, taut with mental and emotional tension... she had never seen him look this way before, ever. He looked, in that moment, like he was fully ready to lock his other hand about the replicator's throat, knowing full well how futile the gesture would be, but so full of rage and betrayal...

And suddenly, she understood everything. She understood the barrage of memories, so carefully chosen, so keen... she understood the river... she understood...

Daniel's eyes suddenly turned to her, locking onto her own, and the pain in them was more than she could bear. In that moment, the tent dissolved around them, leaving the cold metal blocks of a replicator ship's holding cell... and she was watching Daniel stagger forward, released of his bond...

Watching as, in slow motion, the hand and forearm of her replicator self shifted, turned metallic, lengthened and sharpened...

...and plunged through Daniel's chest.

He fell without a cry.

Frozen to the spot, Sam did not have time to react before the world around her went entirely dark... she felt a sudden shove, as of an invisible hand, and the darkness spun about her...

Sam's eyes snapped wide. Daniel's hand was still pressed to her cheek, his eyes screwed shut and his brow furrowed, his breathing shallow and ragged...

"Daniel?" He gasped, a gasp that sounded like half a sob, but did not wake. The sound of the river, the warmth of the sun-and both were real now, physically real, though how she could be so sure of that, she did not know-seemed somehow distant. She reached up, snatched his hand in both of hers, shook it. "Daniel, come back to me, now. Come back. Daniel!"

It had been too much for him. It was so like Daniel to exhaust himself past all reserves... doing what he thought was right... but she would not let him remain there, trapped in that waking dream-nightmare of his mind.

Slowly, as though working to extract himself from his own mind, Daniel's eyelids fluttered, his gaze unfocused. She reached out to him, brushed his forehead, damp with exertion, touched his cheek. His free hand went to his forehead, massaging the furrow between his brows.

"Ow..." he said. "That... was harder... than I thought." He winced. "I wonder... if the Ancients had... some sort of superior form... of aspirin..." He glanced at her blearily. "You okay?"

She nodded. "It was your head we were both crammed into," she offered. Her voice sounded distant... far off, strained. "You pushed me out at the last minute."

"I didn't want you stuck in there with me... in case..." He tried to smile, but it was a pale shadow. "Nothing personal, of course."

The silence fell between them, heavy and thick as summer air. Somehow, words seemed to have evaporated. They looked out across the river, at the ripples and patterns of sunlight on water, and sat together in silence. She was still holding his hand in both of hers... but somehow, that didn't seem to matter. The new information whirled about in her mind, and she suspected that by the time she had sorted it out, she would have a headache every bit as intense as Daniel's...

"I'm glad you know," he said. "I'm glad you know... everything. The past few days, not telling you... it wasn't something I enjoyed. I wanted you to know." He coughed. "And... about Jack?" He studied the branches of the trees overhead. "I know... knew... you would be, ah, worrying about that. About people knowing. More than most things. I actually knew a long time ago. Or guessed, which is kinda like knowing. In a way." He was babbling, Sam realized. Why was he babbling? "If that makes you feel any better. And I think... I think you'd be good together. If you want my opinion." It wasn't even his voice, really... it sounded strange, strained... and of course, she knew why, now. She knew exactly why, knew it all too well. "I just hope that... well... I hope this doesn't change things between us. Too much. I know that it can't be helped, but..."

"Daniel." When he didn't look at her, she tugged at his hand until he surrendered his gaze. "Stop it. Things HAVE changed. But do you think I'd really shut you out because... because..."

"Because your best friend fell in love with you ages ago, never bothered to tell you, and you don't have any feelings at all for him?" He laughed softly, looking down, then finally squeezed her hand. "You're right, Sam. I should know you better than that."

"Why?" The sharpness in her voice surprised even herself. "Because some machine with my face throws a lot of random information at you to try to stop you from ruining her plan to dominate the universe, suddenly you're some sort of expert on the inner workings of my mind? Or was there some sort of hidden knowledge of the Ancients that gave you that ability?"

He blinked, recoiling slightly at her tone, but she was on a roll now, the confusion, the information, the emotion all roiled together to form a mass of energy-and clarity.

"Did you ever stop to think," she demanded, "that maybe-just maybe-the replicator didn't give you total access to the memories she had? You said yourself that she chose deliberately... what makes you think that what you know now... is everything there is to know?"

Daniel looked as though someone had whacked him on the back of the head with a large, dense translation dictionary. His mouth worked, trying to formulate some word... but before he could speak, Sam released his hand. Seizing his face in both of her hands, she pulled him to her, kissing him soundly on the mouth. She continued until she felt the surprised tension ebb, then slowly drain from both their bodies, until his arms snaked around her, crushing her to him, his fingers twining up her neck and into her hair, until his response to the kiss overwhelmed her initiation, leaving her breathless and pulse-ragged in its wake.

Daniel rested his forehead against her own, her fingers playing against his cheek. He was, he always had been, so dear to her... and nothing could change that. Except, perhaps... for the better.

"I want you to look into my mind," she said softly. "MY mind, not her mind, Daniel. And you tell me if anything between us has changed." He hesitated for a moment, pulling back, his head tilting slightly.

"Sam..."

"Daniel... please."

He nodded, closed his eyes... and as Sam allowed her own eyes to drop, she once more felt that gentle, featherlight caress of his mind on hers. She tried to drop any pretense of a barrier, though she had no idea how, to welcome and guide him to exactly what she knew he needed so badly to know...

All this time... all this time, through her own wondering, hurt, and searching... how could she have known that all she had ever wanted or needed was right there by her side? It was true that at first, she hadn't even considered Daniel as anything more than a heart's friend... he'd been married, after all... and by the time the roots of friendship had stretched heart-deep, any conscious thought of being more was so deeply ingrained that she wouldn't have known to seek it.

But she'd loved him, all that time... even if she hadn't known to call it that, even if she hadn't reached out for him in that way. She'd loved him, and that was why the grief of losing him was so intense... why any barrier or distance between them was unthinkable, agonizing.

_'And that's why nothing has changed... even though everything has.'_

She sensed Daniel's comprehension even as she herself understood... and the wholly unexpected sensations of joy, relief, wonder exploded within her, Daniel's emotions magnifying and mirroring her own, allowing his mind and heart to twine and blend with hers in a touch so intimate that mere physical contact was a watery shadow... his very self was laid bare and open to her, just as her mind was to him, and she was overwhelmed with the sudden wash of love and promised devotion, of pent-up emotion breaking free, threatening to drown both of their individual selves and leave only one soul, one mind, one heart...

It was Daniel who broke the contact, drawing back from her mind-but not fully, not fully, like a young suitor reluctant to release the hand of his beloved, fingers twining then sliding apart, but still brushing, prolonging contact as long as possible. He opened his eyes slowly, and smiled... wider, as her own grin infected him... and Sam realized that their hands were locked together, fingers intertwined, a grip so tight it hurt... but the pain was dear to her now, reminding her of its source...

Everything, everything was changed now... though nothing was.


End file.
